


The Werewolf and the Hunter

by thatgirl255



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgirl255/pseuds/thatgirl255
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt on tumblr Simply stating 'Werewolf Soulmate AU'</p><p>Bruce wakes up one day after turning into a werewolf, only to learn that his best friend Clint had been a hunter for years. Thankfully he's more than willing to help him but things turn strange when everything about Clint just suddenly seems...right.</p><p>Oh, yes, and also there are a lot of trained professionals trying to kill him and other werewolves. That is also important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Werewolf and the Hunter

It took a while for Bruce to realize that he woke chained up.

“Clint...?” The name slipped from his lips before his brain could catch up with what the hell was happening. The man in question appeared in front of him barely even a moment later though, so maybe there was a reason for that. 

“Bruce...” It took a moment to focus past his aching body and raging headache, but he noticed that Clint was very black and blue. “I'm just going to say it. You're a werewolf, you just had your first transformation, and I chained you up because I know how to handle werewolves...cause I'm a werewolf hunter.”

Bruce blinked very slowly. “Since when?”

“Sixth grade.”

The chains that dug into his—Bruce was just noticing now—very naked skin tingled in a way he was pretty sure metal or steel or whatever wasn't supposed to. He dragged his tongue over his canine teeth and nearly cut himself. “Huh.”

He proceeded to freak out much later, but that was after he had convinced Clint to bring him some pants, let him free and then dress his wounds.

*

“There are two packs you can join. One that's just out of town and another that's three states up.”

“Mhm.”

“There the only two packs that aren't complete assholes.”

“Mm.”

“Everyone else is on my shit list, and trust me, you don't want to be on my shit list.”

“Ah.”

“...Are you even listening?”

“I can't help but listen, Clint.” Bruce sighed as he slumped down on his friend's couch. He knew his friend was being nothing but helpful, but he had just had his first transformation last night, and a crash course on what it meant to be a werewolf just morning. He felt like he should be a lot more dramatic, but somehow just being here in Clint's apartment with Lucky laying on top of him and his friend's scent sticking to everything (and he wasn't sure if thinking that was creepy or just a fact of life now) made him a lot more calm. By calm he meant he wasn't flipping out and accidentally putting claw marks in everything like own apartment, anyways. “Enhanced hearing...enhanced everything...was your couch always this scratchy?”

It seemed to be constantly wavering in and out of focus. One moment all he could hear was the baby crying on the crosswalk two blocks away and the next it was the shifting on the couch and the warm hand on his knee. “We'll get through this together. You, me, and Lucky.”

The sound of his name made the dog on top of Bruce start wiggling and whining. Bruce could only laugh, quickly petting him so that he could calm down.

*

Clint was surprising welcome with his best friend suddenly being turned into a supernatural creature (especially since he was supposed to be hunting said supernatural creature). Bruce just knew that he could see further, run faster, ate meat for the first time in eight years and apparently had an intense urge to cuddle.

“Not cuddling.” Said Tony Stark, alpha supreme of the werewolf pack that existed just on the edge of town. He was also the head of the company that Bruce had started working at, not to mention painfully human. Clint told him that that wasn't common at all in werewolf packs, and really Bruce was just listening to whatever he had to say. “Scenting. Keeps all the wolfies mellow, you know?” He mentioned to what could only be described as the Werewolf Cuddle Orgy and honest to God smirked. “You want to give it a try?”

“Scenting?” Bruce asked instead of dignifying that with an answer. 

“It's uh...” Clint had to blink three times before he could look away from the Cuddling Orgy and focus on the question. “A way for werewolves to find each other, or just anyone they scent with. You could probably be able to find your way to Lucky even from here.” At Bruce's confused look he smirked. “You two were getting real close just a few hours ago.”

Ignoring the conversation that erupted with Tony being very interested in this 'Lucky' lady (ha) Bruce took the time to try and figure out what Clint was talking about. He gave an experimental sniff of of the air and was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to go that-away to get to Lucky. _Huh._

“Hey, you're new, right?” The soft feminine voice knocked Bruce back into the present. He looked over to the Werewolf Cuddle Orgy just in time to see a woman skillfully extract herself from all the other bodies. Her smart outfit and hair was a little rumpled, but Bruce recognized her from the numerous meetings he had shadowed. 

“Ms. Potts.” He could hear things from miles away, taste the rain that wouldn't come for hours but he couldn't bring himself to look into the co-CEO's eyes without feeling as if his body would somehow make a fool out of himself for him. “I...didn't expect to see you here.”

“I've been a werewolf for three years now.” Even though it seemed obvious it was still a surprise to hear the admission said so casually. She smiled at him with all her teeth, and looking closely, Bruce could see that pointed canines that he himself had developed. “It's...difficult at first, but everyone in a pack will be willing to help you through it.”

Bruce simply nodded, wondering exactly why he would need a pack in the first place, but he thought it rude to ask. 

*

Even though Bruce was a little more than occupied with tuning out the radios he heard from other people's cars he noticed that Clint was very silent on the way to the other pack three states up. He decided not to ask about it, but did figure out why the moment they arrived.

“Long time no see you fucking shit hole.” Barney Barton, Clint's older brother, and frankly one that he thought he had a terrible relationship with. Then they were hugging, and they both had the widest grins on their face, as if they couldn't have been happier to see each other. 

“Too long.” Clint said once they parted, but there was something off in his tone, almost sad. Barney must have heard it too, because his smile suddenly didn't seem as radiant. Whatever this thing was about them it was probably the reason why Clint barely ever spoke of his brother, or deflected the subject whenever it was brought up.

Again, Bruce decided not to ask and instead he was shown around and introduced to this pack. They were much more...well, they acted more like he thought a pack of werewolves would act like. There wasn't that much of them, maybe about seven or so, but they all just seemed to be hanging around play fighting, howling at each other and...hunting, it looked like. Bruce wasn't a big fan of meat, really he had been a vegetation and not missing it for almost a decade now, but just seeing the dead rabbits they were showing off to each other was making his mouth water. 

“I've been meaning to ask...” Bruce asked after Barney went through the ground rules of being a part of the pack (which seemed similar to just every household's unspoken rules). “Why do I need a pack?”

He didn't think it was that an important question, but the shocked look on the brothers faces proved otherwise. “Of all the things not to explain...!” Barney pushed Clint at the shoulder, though it was with barely enough force to even knock him off a step. “So, yeah, well...shit.” Barney scratched the back of his neck in a way that really reminded Bruce that he was Clint's brother. “You're still new, can smell that on you from a mile away, and you don't remember your first full moon.” 

Bruce glanced over at Clint who still sported the fading cuts and bruises from that night just a week ago. He knew it was more a statement than a question, but Bruce nodded all the same.

“Without a pack around that'll always happen. You might as well declare yourself a monster now and get used to murd—” Clint elbowed him in the gut to stop him, but it didn't take a genius to know what he was about to say. “Okay fine, basic of basics you don't get into a pack you can't control yourself, and that covers full moons, blackouts in the supermarket, making sure your fangs don't pop out at work. You probably could do it yourself, but point is you wanna keep living normally, you need to side yourself with other werewolves.”

It wasn't the best explanation, but it still gave Bruce something to think about.

*

He and Clint had been friends for a long time now. Long enough that they knew each other from the inside out, or at least that was what Bruce thought before he found out about all this supernatural business. Now that it was out in the open though, Clint seemed more than willing to tell him everything that he had missed out on. 

“I didn't know much about my parents before they died, but apparently this whole hunting thing has been going on in my family for centuries.” They had barely even shut the doors to the car before Clint was launching into his story. He had this strange passive look on his face, so Bruce was silent as he buckled himself up. “And they worked with a whole bunch of other families to try and and get rid of, well, everything and anything that wasn't human. Before we could enter foster care Barney and I were picked up and trained to be one of them. So when I had to skip school all the time for 'family reasons'? Yeah...

“They had a bias towards werewolves that Barney and I never questioned. If they existed, we killed them. It's just what we did, and we thought we were killing monsters, that we were making the world a safer place...and then Barney got bitten.” He paused then, just long enough to take in a deep breath. “And we were supposed to kill him, just like that. The people that had raised him and loved him for twenty years were literally ready to kill him at the drop of a hat. That was...sort of my moment of charity, the moment that I realized that the people I was with weren't any sort of good guys. So I made a choice. I told them I would kill Barney myself, faked his death, and forced him to move to a different state. After that I told them I was out and walked. They let me go but...sometimes I still feel like they're watching me. That's why I try not to visit Barney that much, you know? I won't know what I would do if the bastard died before me...”

Bruce didn't say anything, just placed an understanding hand on his shoulder. The rest of the ride was spent in comfortable silence, and somehow, Clint smelled better.

*

Bruce still wasn't sure what his next step should be, so he went back to each pack when Clint wasn't around.

“There's not really a time limit...” Barney was a little awkward around him, but the feeling was mutual. The last time they had been alone together was when Clint got pass out drunk and they were both needed to carry him up three flights of stairs. There wasn't as much talking back then, either. “So just, fuck around. Even if you're not a part of the pack we can still help you out, give advice and...well...make sure you don't go batshit insane and try to kill one of us.”

“Thanks.” Bruce said dryly, even though he meant it. Barney shrugged, then left him to the other members of the pack, who stole him for the rest of the day to teach him how to hunt. It was overly satisfying, being able to sink his claw into something, snap the rabbits necks and taste his own kill. That night he slept better than he ever had since this all started. 

Tony seemed to think he was super glued to his hip the moment he stepped within his eyesight. “I'm not a werewolf, so I can't give you first hand advice.” He didn't seem at all broken up about it as he savaged through his large messenger bag. “You can go to Pep or Rhodey for that. What I _can_ offer you is way, way better!” He stopped searching through his bag just long enough to take Bruce by the elbow and lead him away from everyone else.

“A suppressant?” Bruce willingly allowed himself to be lead, but he was looking longingly towards the rest of the werewolves. Today they weren't cuddling, instead they seemed to be running and playing, and Bruce was almost ashamed by how much he wanted to join them (he was nearly in his forties. He didn't think he was supposed to play like a five year old anymore).

“Doesn't exist.” Bruce looked back in time to see Tony pull out what looked like a compact make up mirror. “Sure, whatever, might be a little vein, but it'll still work.” Tony looked very proud of himself. Proud enough that Bruce thought it polite to take the object when it was offered (not to mention he was still very much his boss's boss's boss's boss's boss, so he was trying to behave).

He opened it up, and it really did have a small mirror on the inside. However, the base of it seemed heavier than it should have been, with a few holes in the middle of it. Before he would wonder what it was, Tony was explaining it. “If, when, you get any of those wolfy urges this should help, helped the rest of them. It's a, uh.” He snapped his fingers, needing a second to recall whatever this was. “Scent enhancer. You got a girlfriend?”

The question was so out of left field Bruce needed a moment to blink and get his bearings. “...No.”

Tony paused and gave him a look over. “...Boyfriend?”

Bruce gave him a look. “I don't think that's any of your business Mr. Stark.”

“Tony's good.” Tony didn't seem offended at all. In fact he smiled, tilting his head and mentioning to the 'scent enhancer'. “It's loaded up with your friends scent right now, what's his name, Clint? You can change it up later by—” He stopped short when there was a sudden howl in the distance. “Annnnnd that's my cue. You can keep that, I have to go, you know, make sure everyone doesn't tear each other apart. No big deal.” He winked towards him before he was turning around and running off. 

Bruce had no idea why Tony would think that he would need something like this. Maybe he was supposed to smell it when he wanted to calm down? Is that how it worked? He wasn't sure, but still he raised it to his nose and gave it a curious sniff.

He was pretty sure he blacked out for a few seconds there, because the next moment he was leaning against a tree, his pants way too tight and his entire body flushed far too hot with pure unadulterated lust. He was fairly certain that wasn't what was supposed to happen.

He leaned heavily against that tree, very confused and filled with urges from both his very human side and his very werewolf side. He didn't know how long he was there for, but at one point he realized that he was outside sporting a raging erection in a place where a number of people could very easily stumble across him. After that very mortifying realization he awkwardly wobbled to his car and drove back home.

*

That night he got a very up close and personal with the extent of...werewolf stamina. It was completely ridiculous how many times he had to take care of himself before he was able to pass out. He really wasn't surprised when he woke up the next day with his equipment sore from all the chaffing (which was really just a very sad reminder about how long it had been since he had anything but his own hand and the toy he broke out once a year). He was surprised when the soreness only lasted for a few hours, but at the time he had something more urgent on his mind.

Tony had given him his private number (something that he felt more than a little awed to have) and so he asked him what exactly the scent enhancer was used for. Apparently Pepper and Rhodey both used it when it was close to the full moon a couple years ago, just as something to snap them out of the haze of a unwelcome transformation. That was it. He didn't say that there were any weird side effects, just that the scent of someone they trusted/loved helped them stay them. 

He took another whiff of Clint's enhanced scent just to see if what happened was a fluke. Several cold showers later and Bruce started thinking.

In his short time of being a werewolf, he had come to know that everybody had a certain smell to them, something that he could pick up from a mile away. Every time he smelled someone he would just think about that person, but with Clint...Clint was the only scent he would pick up and just think 'right'. He didn't think much of it before. He just thought that since Clint was his closest friend 'right' just meant 'familiar'. But after those two...incidents...he was starting to think that 'right' meant something a little more...perverted.

It was, of course, in the midst of those thoughts that Clint called him over for lunch. He probably should have, but he couldn't find it in his heart to say no to him. He thought the whole deal would be extremely awkward and wasn't looking forward to it, but the moment he saw Clint those thoughts went away. The man looked...frightened, and he smelled it too. He tried to hide it with fake smiles and deflections but Bruce was not going to take it. He made him sit down, put Lucky on his lap so he couldn't even think about moving, and than made him some tea. It was only then that Clint seemed willing to talk...sort of.

“You lifted Lucky like it was nothing.” That cocky tone was out of place with his hunched, weighted down figure. “I forgot that you were bitten. You're taking it really well, you know?”

“Clint...” Bruce sat down next to him, keeping himself from wringing his hands together by scratching Lucky's head. He struggled to come up with something else to get Clint to talk, but before he could Clint let out a long winded sigh. 

“You remember those other werewolf hunters I was telling you about?” He continued after Bruce gave a slow nod. “Sometimes they check up on me, just to make sure I hadn't joined another group and shared all their secrets or whatever. Normally I don't give a shit but...they...” He glanced towards Bruce and the line of his shoulders looked heavier. “They...were asking about you. I...I don't think they know anything but they might think they know something and...shit.” He was shaking as he took a long drink of his tea. Bruce knew what he was going to say before he even said it.

“I'm not going to cut ties with you.”

“These people are dangerous!” Clint rounded on him, and Bruce took his mug before he could pour the rest of the tea over poor Lucky. “This isn't a game! They find out what you are, they kill you without a second fucking thought! You're nothing but another number they could brag about and if they catch you because of me...!” He cut himself off with a choked sob, and Bruce didn't even think twice before he pulled him into a hug. He could feel Clint shaking in his arms and he wished he could do something that would instantly make him feel better.

“Clint...you've been a part of my life for as long as I can remember and...” _I would sooner die than live the rest of it without you._ “I'm not going to give that up because of some...family issues. I...I mean if I had to, if we had to, we do have a group of other werewolves...and you. You know them...you know their tricks.”

Clint pulled away and Bruce let him, but not any farther than arm's length. “You want to fight?” He had a confused look on his face, not that Bruce could blame him. He really wasn't the fighting type.

“Not really.” Bruce could count the number of times he's gotten into a fight on one hand, and he didn't enjoy any of them. “But I will if I have to.”

Clint narrowed his eyes not in suspicion but in confused thought. At least he didn't seem sad anymore. “You want me...to teach you and your pack how to defend yourself...just so you can hang out with me.”

When worded that way it sounded completely ridiculous and irresponsible, but Bruce could do nothing but nod. Clint stared at him for a long while and then he was sighing, turning away so that he could flop on top of Lucky melodramatically (and Lucky didn't even move, which just showed how often this happened).

“I can't tell if you're underestimating these guys or overestimating me.” Clint's words were negative but he could already see the gears turning his his head, the almost mischievous look in his eye. He was trying to discourage himself, but he had already made his decision. “There's a really high chance this isn't going to work.”

“And I'm not going to stop hanging around you.” Bruce took in a breath, and then gently placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. “You don't have much of a choice.”

Clint looked at him with a small fond smile on his lips. Bruce didn't think about the way his heart beat that little bit faster.

*

Bruce chose to be a part of Tony Stark's pack for two big reasons. One because the man was his superior and could easily warp his work schedule around his new werewolf status. Two because if this plan didn't work...then at least Clint would still have Barney in his life. Not to mention he thought that Tony would be a little more agreeable to their plan. 

“No fucking way.” Bruce wasn't sure about whatever history was between Tony and Clint, but his boss was frowning the moment he set eyes on them. After he heard about their plan he was downright scowling. “You told us to play nice and that's exactly what we're doing! Now you want to turn us into your damn private army?” The other members of the pack looked uncomfortable and confused, but that didn't stop them from sticking close to their alpha in a blind show of support. It was obvious who they had to convince.

“Things have changed.” It was strange to see Clint so completely serious, it was strange to see anyone that completely serious. It truly felt like this was a matter between life and death. “I can't protect you anymore.”

“Protect us from—what?” From Tony's reaction it was obvious that Clint didn't tell them just what he was protecting them from. Oh Clint. “In case you haven't noticed there are six werewolves here and one multimillionaire, we don't need any protection from, who are you again?”

Clint's face darkened into something that made him unrecognizable, and his next words made Bruce's hair raise on the back of his neck. “I'm unarmed, and I could still bring you all down in ten seconds.” 

If Bruce didn't have his werewolf senses, he was sure he would have missed what happened. Now, though, he saw everything clearly, saw the way that Clint dropped them all like they had simply disputed him in a bar. It wasn't anything specular, just a few well aimed punches and the supernatural creatures dropped and didn't even try to get up again. Then Clint just grabbed Tony's arm and twisted, and the man was down on his knee. It was almost graceful how easily he was able to do it all...in a strange violent way.

“There will be people better than me, stronger than me, coming here with the sole purpose of killing each and everyone of you. For years I have been leading them away from you but I can't do that anymore. So either you listen to me and give yourself a chance to survive or you go home and start writing your will, because no amount of money will save you.” It was the full harsh truth, and Bruce could taste the fear in the air but Clint had their attention. 

Of course, the pack wasn't like Bruce; they didn't just take Clint's word for it but it didn't matter. Clint was ready, he had videos, weapons, stories, _truth._ It took some convincing, but just a few days later and the training started.

*

Clint was a good teacher. He pushed them to their limits, but he also praised them for their efforts. He didn't make a good first impression, but weeks into it the rest of the pack couldn't help but have a mutual respect for him, if not outright like him. All in all, it was going really well.

“This isn't going to work.” 

Bruce wasn't sure why he was here. He had just suddenly smelt _right_ and _sad_ and had followed the smell into a bar not too far away. Clint didn't look surprised to see him there, but that might have been because he was starting to tip into drunk. “And it's all my fault.”

“No.” Bruce had an idea of what he was talking about so he sat down right next to him. He could smell the alcohol like a shot of lighter fluid was being waved right under his nose, but he ignored it as much as he could. He wouldn't be here if Clint didn't need him. “You're doing everything you can do to help us and it's working. I don't think I've ever been more fit.” It was said as a joke, but Clint didn't laugh. If anything he looked even more somber.

He played with the bottle he had loosely held in his hand before he drained the last of it. “These guys—my family—have been training for, for _decades_ , with the sole purpose of killing werewolves. That's why I'm training you to fight like men.” With a absent wave of his hand he ordered yet another beer. “Men with enhanced reaction time and thicker skin but...” He let his head hang down between his shoulders, heaving out a deep sigh. “It's not going to work. The pack...they wouldn't fight to save their own lives. They're going to die, and it's going to be my fault.” The bartender placed the beer down and Clint didn't even pause before he took a deep drink.

“Clint...” He knew that Clint was anxious, could always see it in his face whenever he thought no one was looking, but he didn't think it was because he didn't believe in them. He drew in a breath of his own, pushed down the sudden fear, and focused on Clint. “If what you said about your family is true, they're going to come no matter what you do.” There was a long pause, but eventually Clint nodded. “Maybe it'll be tomorrow, maybe it'll be years from now, but you're the only one who knows how to fight back, you're the only one that can help us.” Bruce suddenly had the urge to touch, so he followed it. He scooted his stool a little closer until he could press their shoulders together. Clint didn't seem to mind, if anything he relaxed into it. “You're a good man, and you've done nothing but help us.”

There was a long pause, a very long pause. One where he watched Clint drink the rest of his beer and then order another. “One more day.” He said it to himself, but Bruce was close enough to catch it. When Clint spoke next it was a little louder. “If I don't see anything tomorrow that shows that there's even a chance that the pack can take on my family, I'm leaving.”

Bruce snapped his head around to look at him, a spike of panic surging through him as he realized what he meant. He had let his instincts take control of him all night, so he didn't even try to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing Clint's wrist. For his part, Clint didn't even look like he noticed the sudden desperate contact. “You have your life here.” It wasn't the best argument but Bruce had to say something. “Your job, your friends...” _Me._ “You can't just leave.”

“I do if it means saving people's lives.” It just made it worst that Clint didn't even sound emotional about this. It was a tone that meant that he had thought about this a lot, and that there would be no way to change his mind. “You're right. My family will find you eventually, but me not being here will change that from weeks to months, years.” Clint finally looked at him, his gray blue eyes sad but determined. “Bruce, I'm sorry but I have to.”

Bruce suddenly had a very strong urge to kiss him and it scared him enough that he left Clint to finish his drinking alone.

*

As a member of the pack Bruce had the ability to call everyone together for an emergency meeting. No one seemed very pleased that it was him that called the meeting, something that he could understand. He wasn't a very active member, only listened to what Clint, an outsider, had to say. Not that he had outright disrespected or disobeyed Tony, but he also didn't really see him as his Alpha. He didn't really see anyone as his Alpha, or really understood what that meant, but that didn't matter. Right now, all that mattered was that Clint was going to leave him forever, and he had to do something to stop him.

So he told the pack what was happening. That Clint was part of the family, that he wasn't sure that they could win against them, that they only had today to prove themselves before he would take drastic measures. After he was done there was a long awkward silence, and Bruce was suddenly really wary when everyone started to give each other looks he couldn't understand.

“...Bruce.” Tony looked uncharacteristically serious, and that should have been Bruce's second warning bell. The billionaire looked around at the other werewolves close to him, and then took a step back to lean against the tree. His posture was causal, but there was something weirdly calculating about it. “I like the guy but he sounds like he knows what he's doing. It would probably be the best for everyone if we just let him go, instead of, you know...dying.”

Bruce had been feeling this something ever since Clint had told him that he might leave the night before. He didn't know what that feeling was then, but at Tony's words they suddenly hit him like a slap to the face. It was helplessness, but more than that it was _rage_. If he really thought about it though, that latter emotion had been with him since he he woke chained up so long ago. Only he had never noticed it, it was also so deep under the surface that worrying about what he was going to have for dinner was always more important. Now though, it reared up and consumed him so entirely that he physically doubled over. 

He could feel his body growing, his teeth growing, his clothes popping at the seams. He could hear people yelling out to him, but he couldn't hear anyone over the thought that this, that he, is that reason that Clint will leave him forever. The transformation pushed him down onto all fours, and he went willingly, adrenaline coursing through him as his body shifted into something huge and inhuman. He had to get away, get away and find Clint and _stop him._

His throat vibrated and an growl filled the air. His heart was pounding in his chest as he surged onwards towards Clint, not knowing what to do but knowing he needed him now and forever. He was so completely and utterly focused on his task that he didn't even register the pricks against his skin, only knew that his legs felt like jello and the world around him grew dark.

*

When Bruce gained something akin to conscious everything was somehow both too sharp and too hazy around the edges, and that was accounting for all his senses. He knew, before he could even force his suddenly heavy eyelids open, that Tony, Pepper and Rhodey were hovering over him.Opening his eyes only confirmed this suspicions, though it didn't tell him why Pepper and Rhodey were curled up on either side of him, or why Tony was looking at him with such shock on his face. Not that he really found anything wrong with the picture at the time, right now all he wanted to know about was “Clint...?”

He could still smell him, and every inch of him told him to get up, get up and go to him. So he followed, but all his limbs suddenly felt like two ton weights had been attached to them. Hands on his chest gently pushed him back down, and he let them with a grunt, his head rolling to the side. He felt so tired, but his eyes were glued to Pepper's face when she cleared her throat and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Bruce.” Her voice was so careful and soft that Bruce found himself melting in it, and it was a much harder struggle to keep his eyes open. Still, he managed enough to catch Pepper biting her bottom lip, and then speaking again in that same soothing tone. “What does Clint smell like?”

Bruce's brain felt like it was melting just as much as the rest of him as she spoke. Thankfully he didn't have to think about his answer. “Right.” He said, his voice very slurred as he closed his eyes again. The last thing he heard before sleep took over again was a worried 'shit' from both Tony and Rhodey.

*

The second time he woke up it was much more pleasant. It was Clint this time, and he was back at his apartment, with Lucky dozing somewhere close by. Clint's scent was stronger than usual, and it took a few more moments before he realized it was because his head was laying in his lap. What was more, was that Clint was idly running his fingers through his hair. It all felt so nice that he didn't want to open his eyes, so instead he just sighed and shifted closer. Apparently that was enough to tell Clint that he was awake, because his hand abruptly stopped.

“That was fast.” He heard Clint hum, and then he was lightly slapping at his cheek. “C'mon, get up. We need to talk.” 

Bruce was still far too groggy to understand the full weight of those words. He did, however, make a displeased grunt before he complied. His limbs didn't feel as heavy as the last time that he forced himself to move, but it was still more of a struggle then usual just to push himself up into a sitting position. Still groggy and tired and comfortable, he gave up halfway through and and just leaned heavily onto Clint, slumping against him as his head lulled against his shoulder. Clint made a weird noise and the next moment he was pushed onto the other side of the couch. He looked up at Clint in mild confusion, and only then noticed that he looked extremely nervous. Not only that, but his face was bright red and...Clint was blushing. Why was Clint blushing? “...Do you have any coffee?” Bruce felt like he should be a lot more awake for...whatever conversation they needed to have.

Clint got up and bounded for the kitchen. If Bruce was anymore in his right mind, he would find it more than strange. Clint would usually be teasing him, telling him he was dumb for asking such a stupid question—he always had coffee—and yelling back at him as he went to prepare it. Now, however, his mind was blissfully blank as he sat there and not too soon after Clint was walking back into the room with two mugs in hand.

It took more concentration than it should have to properly hold the mug between his hands, but Bruce managed. The heat travelling through his palms was nice, but not as nice as the body heat he could feel from Clint when he sat down next to him again. He had the urge to lean over against Clint again, but considering how he acted last time, thought better of it.

Bruce took a long drink of his coffee—half a teaspoon of sugar heavy on the cream, just the way he liked it—not phased by the heat of it. In the middle of this, Clint let out a very un-Clint like “U-Uhhh...”

Clint looked flustered, and it wasn't just because of the red hue across his cheeks. Bruce had been best friends with him since they were in middle school (which was something close to thirty years ago) so he used to think he was able to tell whatever he was thinking just from his expressions. This was one that he was very familiar with, though not when it was aimed at him. It immediately set him on edge. “Clint—” Before he could express his concerns though, Clint was holding up a hand, already telling him to stop.

“Sorry Bruce.” He said, lowering his hand. At least now Clint looked a little more resolute, a little more like the best friend he has had for years. “Just, let me, let me say what I have to say.” He took in a deep breath, took a sip of his coffee, flinched away when he realized it was still too hot, and continued as he wiped the liquid from his lips. “Werewolves are, like, half wolf, right? So they take on some of their traits, especially the ones that are already basically human like...” He trailed off, making a noise of frustration as he leaned his upper body into the elbow on his knee. He rolled his hand uselessly, looking at Bruce as if to say 'you know?' Bruce didn't know, but he nodded so that Clint could continue. 

"So, uh, wolves...like, uhh, most people...mate for life." Clint flushed harder. How he did that Bruce had no idea. "It's seen as a theory but...fuck." His face scrunched up in annoyance and the rest of his words came out in an angry rush. "Look, I've seen it happen before and it happened to Barney. Werewolves can scent out their soul mates."

If Bruce had been any more aware he most definitely had more than a few things to say about it. Now though, his mind said ridiculous but his body just took another deep sip of his coffee and glanced up at the hunter. "What." He offered.

Clint suddenly stood, pacing across his floor nervously. “Soulmates!” He repeated, as if just saying it again would instantly make Bruce understand. When it very obviously didn't, he put his mug on the table and continued pacing. “You've never heard about it from shitty romance movies? It's when two people are destined to be together!”

“You don't believe in destiny.” The words were forming on Bruce's mouth as his mind struggled to work through the fog. Soulmates, Clint's smell, he always smelt 'right' but that couldn't be right. It wasn't like Clint thought of him as anything other than his best friend anyways.

“I know!” Clint was shouting, and he looked lost and upset. 

Bruce really didn't like that, and all his other concerns fell away as the words tumbled from his lips. “What can I do?” He didn't even know what that meant, but suddenly he was drowning in the blue of Clint's eyes, and he didn't recognize the expression that crossed his face. 

Bruce blinked, and maybe there was something wrong with his sense of time, because then Clint was there right in front of him. He was so close, closer, closer than he had ever been. There were lips on his, soft at first, but then they pressed harder. Bruce was completely still for a couple seconds, shocked and confused...and than he snapped.

There was a noise that came out of his throat, something akin to a growl, and then he was pushing back. Clint always smelt right, and now that smell was all around him, enticing him, enveloping him deeper and deeper until he didn't know what he was doing anymore. He reached over to put his coffee on the table, not caring when he missed and mug smashed against the floor. All he knew was Clint, how much he wanted him, how much he wanted him to want him, the small desperate noises he made that just made him want to take take take. It was only when those noises turned into distress did Bruce let him go, pulled his lips back to let him breath. He got a good look then, needed a few seconds to come to terms with what had just happened.

Clint's lips were red and kiss swollen, hair mused and pulled into different directions, face flushed and pupil's dilated. _Mine_ , Bruce's brain supplied and suddenly that was a fact of life. _Clint was his_ and he had to make sure he knew that.

“Clint.” He said, and Clint looked at him like he was the only person left in the world. “I lo—”

There were people.

Clint turned away, Lucky started barking, _people_. The room was flooded by a bunch of different scents, humans, powerful. Bruce was much too out of it to notice the needle before he felt the prick of it breaking his skin. However, even he wasn't too out of it to feel how it made his throat feel too tight, and how his body went limp against his will. He slumped against the couch, his body leaning to the side until flopped onto the armrest uncomfortably. Clint went with him, his limbs dangling uselessly as he sagged against him. Wherever Clint was pressed against him his skin tingled, but Bruce ignored that and let his eyes dart around, trying to catch every detail of the three, no, four people that had entered the room. He could smell them, two who were outside his field of vision and the other two who were heading towards them.

He wanted to scream, tell them to get away from Clint, jump up and put himself in front of him, but he couldn't. He couldn't even open his mouth to get the words out, or twitch his finger. He could only watch in horror as a strange woman approached and placed her hand on top of Clint's head. She looked at Bruce at the same time Lucky made a feral sound he had never heard before and attacked someone. Bruce couldn't see it, but he did hear a yelp of pain from a person, and then a yelp of pain from a dog. His heart sunk when it became a little too quiet after that.

“Sorry bout this, honey.” The woman said in an accent that Clint had lost a long time ago. It took Bruce a moment to recognize she was talking to him. “Should have heard how much Clint would go on and on about you! It's so great to see you together now!” She smiled as if she hadn't just stormed in here, drugged them both and didn't bat an eye when her friend hit a dog. Bruce felt sick. 

“Too bad it took you two so long.” She sighed, and made a motion with her hands that made two men walk over to her. “Would have had so much more time.” She tsked, and the two men shuffled around her to pick up Clint. “Pity. I always liked you.” Internally Bruce screamed for them to stop. Clint was _his his his_ and they were taking him away from him before he could show it! He could feel that rage, that engulfing fear and anger that turned him into something he wasn't just hours ago. Only this time, nothing happened. He remained that same, completely incapable of doing anything but blink as he watched them heave Clint's weight off of him.

The woman gave him a look that was almost _sheepish_ of all things, and then slipped out of his field of vision. “Don't worry.” She said, far closer than he would have liked. “You won't remember a thing.”

There was another prick breaking into his skin, and then there was nothing.

*

There was an urgency to get up, but Bruce didn't know why. He was in Clint's apartment, and Clint wasn't here. Did he go somewhere? He wasn't sure, but he did know he had to go after him. He had to go go go find Clint Clint Clint.

There was a soft whine. Lucky, someone cut Lucky's leg. There was blood on it, and thankfully he wasn't trying to walk. His fur was discoloured and stained with his blood. How long ago did this happen? The moment Bruce's eyes landed on him, his tail lifted off the ground an inch and flopped back down weakly. He had to find a first aid.

His hands were shaking as he sloppily bandaged Lucky's leg, not that the dog seemed to care. His tail was wagging the whole time, and whenever he got close enough he would tilt his head and lick at him. It helped to sooth Bruce's frayed nerves a little, not that he knew why he was so geared up in the first place (then again, his friend's pet was injured, maybe that was why). 

When he was sure he wouldn't continue to bleed out the moment he lifted him, Bruce did just that. He felt weak but the animal vet wasn't too far from here. He needed to make sure Lucky was okay first.

Before what he...he didn't...know.

They admitted Lucky fairly fast, and he made sure to leave his number for them to call. They said Lucky had to be there for at least a day but he would be fine. As soon as he knew that Bruce left.

He had to...he had to do something with Clint.

*

Bruce didn't run, but he followed Clint's scent all the way out of town and into a heavily forested area. Actually, the same one what he met up with his pack, even if it was in a very very different part. It took hours, but the more he walked the more his head cleared, and bit by bit he started to remember.

He had changed. Tony had shot him with something he was pretty sure. Rhodey and Pepper were cuddling with him. Pepper's voice was soothing. Then Clint was there, so was Lucky, unharmed. They were talking about...something. It was important, very important, but that was all he remembered. He just knew he had to keep walking, had to keep heading toward what smelled right. 

The closer he got the more geared up he was getting. The adrenaline was making his heart pound and his steps go light, but for the life of him he couldn't understand why. 

Until he saw movement.

The training, what they all had been training for for all this time. Clint's family; they knew how to take down werewolves, it was what they did. They couldn't face them with the mind of a wolf, they needed to take them on with the mind of a man. Watch, plan, never charge, let them come to you. Use the earth, the forest they connected with as their environment. Know what the turf looked like, notice any changes, steer clear. Do not let them take away what was theirs, make them regret walking onto their turf.

Clint was in trouble. He had to get him back.

What moved wasn't a person, but he could smell that they were close. Close, but far enough that he knew he had to change now. He had only done it once before, but it came naturally, as if every part of him agreed that he had to do this to save Clint. At once everything became sharper. He could smell exactly where everyone was, could feel the parts of the earth that were tainted with things meant to hurt him, hear the sound of weapons slap against skin as they moved. There was far more of them then their were of him, but he was ready. 

The first kill came easy. 

He was very large for a wolf, but the sun had fallen and his fur gave him a better camouflage than flesh. All he had to do was hide, watch, and wait. They were like soldiers, always walking back and forth, staying within their assigned areas. They had walkie talkies that they spoke into every half hour, and all Bruce had to do was make sure it as turned off. 

It was easy then, to jump onto his hind feet and get the man's neck between his teeth. It felt the same as when he had gone and visited Barney and his pack. They taught him how to hunt, how to kill rabbits in the most efficient and humane way. It felt similar, only his pray was much bigger and he had to bite down harder. Still, he felt the satisfying crack, the bust of blood hitting his tongue as the skin easily gave way to his teeth. As soon as he was able, he spit it out. It tasted disgusting, but Bruce told himself that this was necessary. 

They would pay. They would all pay.

The first kill barely made any noise, but the second he miscalculated a little bit. He had thought he wasn't noticed, but the spilt second before his teeth snapped shut the man turned around. Bruce could tell he was trying to yell, make a sound and let everyone know that something was wrong. Lucky for him the sound soon turned into a watery gurgle when his mouth rapidly filled with blood. He had to be more careful. 

The third kill went just as easy as the first, but he knew he had to give up. Just offing three of them took almost half an hour. In just a few minutes they would check in on everyone again, and realize that their outer perimeter was down. There were still six other people outside, not to mention two in the front of where ever they were hiding out, and three others just beside where Right...where Clint was. When their guard was down it was easy to pick them off, but trained professionals all with their guard up? He had to be alive if he was going to save Clint.

He didn't want to, but he knew he had no choice but to retreat and regroup before he was noticed.

*

Bruce didn't go back home. Thankfully today was a day that the pack were going to meet up, so he didn't think twice about going right over there to met with everyone else. Maybe he should have, because he could see the fear in everyone's faces the moment he got close enough. He changed back into a person, putting his hands up in surrender when he noticed both Tony and Rhodey pull out something that looked like guns.

“Don't shoot!” Bruce called, though he didn't slow down as he walked swiftly towards them. Thankfully they seemed to realize that he was in enough of his right mind for them to not point those guns at him, but that didn't stop them from looking terrified. Right now that wasn't important. “They took Clint and I think they're going to kill him and—”

He killed three people. Clint was in trouble and he was willing to kill over a dozen people to get him back. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. He didn't even think about it, he just knew they were in the way, and he killed them.

In front of his pack, he doubled over and threw up every meal he had to eat since last week.

*

The best people to understand werewolves were other werewolves. Bruce honestly didn't even notice that he was completely nude until he was handed a pair of pants, which he was more than thankful for. Pepper even produced a blanket out of seemingly no where and draped it over his shoulders as if he was some kind of shock victim.

It helped.

“Are you sure that's where Clint is?” Rhodey asked for the who knows how many times now. Bruce could only nod, hunched around the mug of coffee that Tony seemed to have whipped up out of no where. He didn't know if he could handle anymore than a few sips, but the heat of it was comforting.

He heard Rhodey swear, but he wasn't playing much attention to what was going on. Half because he felt like he was about to throw up his stomach at any given time, and half because he was still out of it. He had told them that he was injected with something, something that was supposed to erase his memory, only he got it back within hours. Tony had said that maybe they didn't give him enough to overwhelm his newly formed werewolf abilities, which gave them an advantage. They didn't know that he was a werewolf.

“We need a plan.” That was Pepper, and somehow knowing that she was all for getting Clint back made Bruce feel slightly more at ease. 

“Already got it.” Tony piped up, and now Bruce was paying attention. The Alpha slid off the hood of his very nice looking car, only needing to crook his fingers to get the whole pack surrounding him obediently. He looked at each and every member of his pack before he spoke. 

“I'm not a werewolf.” He said, his face unusually subdued. “But I got one thing Clint was teaching. You have to use your werewolf instincts while keeping the level head that our human side gets us. So from one human to another, I think our next course of action is obvious.” 

Tony Stark, before his company dedicated itself to helping advance environmentally friendly technologies, was nicknamed the Merchant of Death. The weaponry his company produced for the army was arguably some of the best in the world. Even though it had been years since anything from guns to missiles had been produced with the Stark Industries name, there was still a rumour that Stark had a large amount of his best weapons locked away for emergency purposes. He nodded toward Pepper, who already had the phone against her ear. Even though it wasn't on speaker, everyone with enhanced hearing heard the other line pick up with, “ _911 what's your emergency?_ ”

Everyone stared.

Tony flipped his hand in a dismissive matter. “Think like we're just human.” He reminded as Pepper calmly gave the location. “We just found three dead bodies and someone went missing. What the hell else would we do?”

Bruce very much wanted to protest, but the reminder that he had murdered three people with nothing but his teeth sent him into another dry heaving fit.

*

Turns out Clint's family's IQ went way way down when they were spooked. Bruce vaguely recalled Clint hinting that the family also extended into the police, so getting their trust would be difficult. In the end, however, they didn't have to do anything. No matter how deep your hand goes into the their pocket, no cop can smooth over one of their own being killed. 

Bruce had heard everything that had happened. Heard cops getting out of their car to check out the disturbance, heard sometime yell 'THAT'S HIM' and the rest was just far too loud gunfire. 

More cops were called when the shooing didn't stop, and when that didn't help special forces were called in. The whole thing took almost two hours, but at the end several of the family and one cop was dead, several more were injured, and Clint was alive.

The last part was all that Bruce really cared about. 

Tony told him not to run over when he was still getting treated, something about laying low for a while. The only reason Bruce listened was because Tony promised to drive him to the hospital Clint was at himself. He kept his word, but even though Bruce knew Clint was now safe he couldn't help but fidget and tense and hope that Tony would go faster. It was dumb, but a large part of him was saying that Clint wasn't truly safe until he was there, until Clint knew that he was his. 

Maybe that was what that whole soulmate thing was about, but Bruce was trying not to think about that right now.

“Family dramas, right?” Tony was still in the process of trying to get them in, but Bruce knew that voice from anywhere. Clint. He could smell blood, but it had long since dried up. Clint seemed to be fine, but he couldn't be sure until he saw him. “One week you're arguing about who hosts Thanksgiving, and the next you're holding each other up at gunpoint.”

He didn't have permission but he couldn't help but follow that voice. 

He was walking away from the emergency rooms, past the ICU and through the waiting room filled with coughing children. He didn't even think about it when he opened the door and walked right into that small room. He closed the door behind him, getting the stares of the two people that were inside. His own gaze, however, met with shocking gray blue, and everything just just faded away.

Clint. He was bruised and beat up and had a cut on the bridge of his nose, but he had never been more beautiful, more _right_. He was half way across the room before he realized he had stepped forward. Clint was saying something, but he cut him off by grabbing his face and kissing him.

He was real, he was real and he was solid and he was _safe_. 

“Bruce. Bruce!” Clint was smiling, bruised and blushing and gorgeous. He pushed at his chest, and suddenly he could realize his surroundings. The doctor didn't look very amused. “I'll meet you outside after I'm finished my physical.” He pushed at him with a fond look on his face. “Get out of here.”

Bruce did so feeling better than he has in ages.

*

Twenty minutes later Bruce got a text to meet Clint on the roof, alone. The roof wasn't allowed to patients but that was probably why Clint sneak out onto it. They really did need a moment alone.

“Where's Lucky?” Clint asked before he had even stepped past the door. 

Bruce paused, but just long enough that he could close the door behind him. “At the animal hospital near your apartment. His leg is injured, but he's fine.”

Clint remained standing but his whole body sagged in pliable relief. He turned to lean against the railing, staring out at the parking lot below them. Bruce took that time to carefully approach him. 

“Um...” Bruce started to wring at his hands, not sure what to do with them as he stepped up beside him. “I'm...sorry for—” 

“Don't say for not saving me.” Clint glanced over at him before he took a deep breath. Dispute his body being much more relaxed then when he first walked saw him, there was still a line of tension along his shoulders. “I'm here, I'm safe and I'm not going to take that werewolf bullshit.”

“What? No!” To be fair, there was a part of Bruce that did feel that way. That as Clint's soulmate (at least he was pretty sure that was what they were) he alone should have been able to protect him. He felt it, but that wasn't what he was going to apologize for. “I'm sorry for your loss.” 

Clint turned to look at him at that, fully now. There was a bruise on his cheek that was deep purple and swollen enough to push his eye lid partially closed. As his best friend Bruce should be laughing at him. Now, however, felt far too important. So instead Bruce offered a shy smile, one that wasn't returned.

“...Georgia.” Clint explained, still looking him right in the eye. “The woman leading them all. I've known her since I was eight. She always told Barney and me to call her mom. We did, and then I stopped when she told me to kill Barney.” He looked out to the parking lot again, a sadness entering his eyes. “She's not dead but she's in jail for something that we can't cover up. The Barton's have a really long history of killing people...but we also have some fucking good lawyers. Still, killing a cop isn't something that'll go away.”

There was a pregnant silence that did nothing to sooth the butterflies rampaging in Bruce's stomach. He always hated seeing his friend like this, even before any additional romantic feelings rose up. He knew he wanted to help him, touch him and assure him that he was there. He just didn't know where to put his hand. Bruce swallowed drily, telling himself he was over thinking it before he just put his hand on Clint's arm. Clint sighed deeply, sagging a little more against the railing. Bruce took a chance and started to sooth his hand up and down his arm. That got Clint talking again.

“I'm scared.” He admitted, his head falling between his shoulders. “I don't know if this is going to attract hunters or tell them to fuck off. I don't know if Barney is safe. I don't know if my apartment or Lucky will be safe. I...don't know if you'll be safe.” He straightened up surprising fast, turning around and grabbing Bruce's hand. 

Bruce could only blink at him, knowing he could get his hand back at any time but letting Clint hold it. He wondered if he had somehow crossed the line, if maybe Clint didn't want to talk about them when his family was in jail. Those thoughts soon faded when Clint clasped his hand within his own and held it to his chin.

“Fuck.” He sighed again, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head down. “I want...I really fucking want to be selfish, Bruce. I-I love you, man. I have for a long time and, and shit. You were my first crush, and I want you to be my last.” He took in a deep breath and looked at Bruce's face again. His voice wavered, and Bruce's heart sunk when he realized he was on the verge of tears. “But being with me might _kill you_. The one reason you're not dead is because Georgia met you when we were kids, but she won't do that again. If she comes back, if fucking _any_ hunters come back, you'll be dead, just like Barney and it'll be _my fault_. It'll be better if you, if both of you, just kept away from m—”

“You know I'll never do that.” Bruce had let Clint talk for long enough. He put his other hand on top of his own staring him down with what he hoped was a determined look. “We...got a little caught up before I could say this, but no matter where you go, I'll go with you. Fuck me being a werewolf, fuck this soulmate thing, you're my _best friend_. You're always there for me, even when I was an idiot and lost Betty because I spied on her lab partner thinking they were having an affair.”

Clint chuckled, a broken sound that seemed to let the tears start escaping his eyes. “You were really paranoid back then.”

Bruce smiled, glad he could get Clint to laugh. He squeezed onto their joint hands, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his tear streaked cheek. “The point is is that I love you too, Clint. Even if we never get together, I'll always love you and I'll always be right there for you. And if that means I get to spend the rest of my life with you, even if it's short...then it would be a life well lived.” There was a missed beat before Bruce felt his face flush. “But, uh, I would want that. Getting together, I would, uh—”

Thankfully Clint chose that moment to cut him off—thank God—with a solid, smiling, slightly awkward press of lips. He was still crying, but that didn't stop Bruce from kissing him right back, taking control of the kiss so that he could make it just a little less awkward. 

Bruce could kiss Clint forever, but he didn't protest when Clint pulled back (even if he followed his lips for a moment before he understood what was happened). Clint wiggled his hand, and Bruce got the hint and let him have it back.

“So.” Clint wiped at his cheeks until the tears were gone, still sniffling a little sadly. “Guess this means that the soulmate thing isn't complete bullshit.”

Bruce just shrugged, then leaned forward to put their foreheads together. “I'm not convinced. There's nothing scientific about soulmates. Not to mention it sounds like something you would make up.”

Clint's smile was gorgeous. “Fuck Bruce, you never believe any of the shit I tell you.”

Bruce laughed, and then Clint was laughing too, and suddenly the threat of death seemed very far away.


End file.
